The Freudian Diaries
by FrameofMind
Summary: Oneshot Collection. When Dr. Katsumoto, Ph.D. opened his new practice, he could not have imagined the range of peculiar characters who would soon seek his professional help... Rated M to be safe.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Inuyasha, or any of the other slightly nutty persons who may later on inflict their neuroses on the good doctor…

**Author's Note:** Don't worry, folks, I'm not wasting time I should be using to work on _Absence_—if anything I'm wasting time I should be using on sleeping (—grin—). But in any case, this has been written and sitting on my computer for ages, a long with a couple of other half-finished, related oneshots that will be added to this collection eventually. Let me stress that this is a _oneshot collection_, not an ongoing story—there will be no plot. Think of it like a bunch of those spoof-ish fics I write sometimes, except these will be linked together by a shared premise. Make sense? Good… (—grin—)

**Dog's Best Friend**

Dr. Katsumoto breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind one of his more difficult patients—a cross-dresser who was obsessed with the idea of killing and dismembering every attractive male he came across. Jakotsu claimed it was harmless fun, but the psychiatrist had been forced to inform the police and have all sharp implements removed from his patient's house. Oddly enough, this didn't seem to phase Jakotsu much—though the doctor suspected there was some lingering resentment, since Jakotsu had stopped coming on to him at every session.

He knew he had only a few moments peace before his newest patient arrived for his first session, so he took the time to straighten his tie and sweater vest and put away a few case files he had left on his desk earlier that morning. First sessions were always…interesting. There was no way of knowing just what sort of person one could expect to walk in the door.

Soon, a beep from the intercom drew his attention, followed by the voice of his secretary. "Dr. Katsumoto, your two-o'clock is—"

But before she could even complete her sentence, the door banged open and a red blur came bounding into the room, startling the doctor so completely that he snapped his favorite fountain pen clear in half.

"Keh—what's up doc?" The blur said, coming to a halt a few feet in front of him and showing himself to be a young man—though a rather strange young man at that. Not only was he dressed from head to foot in a fire-engine red kimono, but he had claws, fangs, golden eyes, long silver hair and…were those…_cat_ ears on top of his head?

Realizing he was gaping (it was not like him to be so unprofessional), the doctor gave himself a small shake and plastered on a smile. "You must be Inuyasha?"

"Feh—who else would I be? Let's get on with this."

"Right. Well—if you'll just have a seat," he replied, indicating the sofa—but to his surprise and chagrin, the young man perched himself on the coffee table instead, the soles of his feet together, his hands hidden beneath his voluminous sleeves. Dr. Katsumoto cleared his throat, but did not protest, instead taking a seat in his brown leather wing-backed chair in front of his new patient. "What seems to be the trouble?"

Inuyasha looked sideways almost sheepishly, as though reluctant to answer. Finally he said in a low grumble, "Well, lately I've been having trouble with…"

"Yes?" the doctor prompted gently.

"…my Tetsusaiga," he finished at last.

"Your…Tetsusaiga?"

"Yeah, you know…my sword."

"Your…oh! Oooh, your 'sword'…I see. Well, what seems to be the trouble?"

"Well, lately I…I haven't been able to get it to…to transform."

"Ahh, yes, yes…I can see how that would be a problem."

"I just don't know what happened. I mean, it used to be that all I had to do was whip it out and it would transform and get all huge and powerful—" The doctor raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. "—but lately every time I've tried it, nothing."

"Mm hm…"

"Even when Kagome's around, I pull it out and it just sits there, useless as ever. Which is really weird, because it was with her that I first learned how to use it in the first place."

"I see…"

"And of course, if I can't get it to transform, the Wind Scar is out of the question…"

"Excuse me," the doctor interrupted, puzzled, "the 'Wind Scar'?"

"Right—that's when all my energy sort of builds up inside the sword, and then it comes shooting out in one big all-or-nothing blast."

"Ah—and you call this the 'Wind Scar'?"

"Yeah—doesn't everyone?"

"I can't say I've ever come across that particular term myself, but whatever you're most comfortable with…"

"Okay…uh, yeah…so anyway, it's not working. And that's especially bad, because if I can't perform the Wind Scar, I can't fulfill my responsibility to Kagome."

"Mm hm...tell me, has Kagome said anything to you about your little…problem?"

"She's been really supportive so far—and luckily, every time my sword has failed us so far, she's been able to take care of the situation herself. Or Miroku or Sango has been, at least."

"Miroku or…_Sango_?"

"Yeah—they're our best friends. Course I don't like it much when I have to let them handle it."

"No…no, I don't imagine you would," the doctor replied somewhat uncomfortably. "And they do this…together?"

"Yeah. They actually make a pretty good threesome when I'm out of commission."

"You mean you…you _watch_?"

"'Course! Why not? I may not be up for it myself, but I wouldn't want to miss a good climax."

Well. There was no arguing with _that_.

"Anyway, she told me not to get too upset, and that she was sure things would be back to normal before too long. Oh—and she also said that it might help if I just put the sword in the sheath and left it there for awhile to see if anything changed."

The doctor frowned slightly. "I'm not sure how well that would work…"

"Me neither! But you don't know Kagome—she's pretty insistent."

"I see… Well, I wouldn't worry too much if I were you. Believe it or not, this is really a very common problem. Most men experience it at least once in their lives. The first thing you have to do is determine whether the problem is physical or psychological, then you can proceed with the proper sort of treatment."

"How do I do that?"

"Well, it's really quite simple—you see, most men experience several—er—_transformations_ during the course of a night's sleep—"

"The Tetsusaiga transforms while I'm asleep? But I thought it couldn't do that unless I was holding it…" Inuyasha murmured thoughtfully, brow furrowed.

The doctor blinked a couple of times at this, but merely cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, all you have to do is stick a couple of postage stamps on…'the Tetsusaiga' before you go to sleep, and if the stamps are not broken when you awake you know that your problem is, in fact, physical, not psychological. If that is the case, I can refer you to a specialist—if not, I can help you to work through whatever issues you may be having myself."

"Sounds simple enough. Thanks doc!" The hanyou leapt to his feet, a determined grin spreading across his face as he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Dr. Katsumoto said, getting to his feet as well. "You don't have to leave yet—there's still forty-five minutes left in your session."

Inuyasha looked back at him quizzically. "Problem's solved—what would I want to hang around here for?" He whirled again and headed for the door—but just before he disappeared, Dr. Katsumoto could have sworn he heard the man mutter, "Keh—just wait'll that damn wolf Kouga gets a load of my Tetsusaiga back in action again…"

The good doctor sank back into his chair with a weary sigh and removed his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he ought to have gone to law school after all…

* * *

**A/N:** Just a brief side-note, I stole the postage stamp thing from Charles Grodin (at least I think that's who it was). There's a clip of him on the Best of the Johnny Carson Show DVDs where he's describing a medical talk show he was apparently on at some point, and the doctor on the show gave out this information to a caller. No idea if the advice is actually sound, but seeing as the best source I have for medical advice of this nature is old tapes of the Johnny Carson show, I figured I was better off using that than trying to make up a solution myself… (—grin—) 


End file.
